


check please! ficlets

by somehowunbroken



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: M/M, Multi, Tumblr Ask Box Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-24
Updated: 2015-02-25
Packaged: 2018-03-14 21:45:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 5,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3426659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somehowunbroken/pseuds/somehowunbroken
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>i did a ficlet meme on tumblr. mostly dex/nursey, but there's also some polyfrogs, ransom/holster, and jack/bitty too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. dex/nursey, "things you said when i was crying"

**Author's Note:**

> these are not edited. they're very much tumblr-fic, without capital letters, and fluffy ridiculous. you have been warned.

"i don’t," dex says angrily, wiping at his face like it’s betraying him. "i can’t, i just - this can’t be. a thing. not to - to anyone back home."

derek nods slowly. he’d known that, honestly, had puzzled it out from the context clues, read between the lines of dex’s thoughts and actions and words. “it’s what you want it to be, dex. your call, your ball, your court.”

"i don’t want it to be," dex mutters, heels of his palms pressed into his face. "for once, damn it, i want to just…"

derek doesn’t say anything as dex trails off. if wishes were fishes, he knows, and he can’t change dex’s family, or the way dex feels about telling them.

"god," dex says, shivery and wrecked, and derek - he’s got rules for himself about this, about what kinds of comfort he can give people when, and it might be breaking them to sit next to dex and put an arm around his shoulder and pull until dex is leaking steady tears into the collar of his shirt, but fuck if he’s gonna just let dex cry it out on his own.

"i’ve got you," he says, and dex shudders all over. "you do what you gotta do, man. i’ve got your back."


	2. dex/nursey: "things you said when you thought i was asleep"

"i don’t know what i’m doing," dex says, low and quiet into derek’s shoulder. derek’s about to crack an eye open, ask what he means, but dex sighs. "shit. i wanna ask you about it, but no, i really fucking don’t."

derek keeps his eyes shut. dex has a thing about talking, about how much he wants anyone else to hear, and it sounds like this isn’t a conversation he wants company for.

"stay sleeping," dex mutters, and then he carefully shifts so he’s spooning derek, his slightly smaller frame curled around derek’s in his too-small bed. he sighs. "just. i don’t wanna say this is easy for you, because i know you well enough to know nothing’s as chill as you make it out to be, but… i wish i was better at this."

now derek’s really wanting to move, to turn over and let dex know that no, bullshit, he’s great, this is all great, but dex drapes his arm over derek’s side and cautiously rests his hand against derek’s chest. they wake up like this sometimes, and dex always rolls away too quickly for derek to enjoy the moment. the shit he’s realising now, though, it’s kind of breaking his heart a little. he lets dex have his moment.

"you deserve more," dex says after a moment. it sounds like he’s starting to unwind, like he might sleep soon. "you’re good at this whole thing. at people. i wish…" he sighs, maybe yawns, and settles himself. "i wish i could make it work in my head."

there’s soft snoring not long after that, but derek - derek doesn’t sleep, not for a long time.

-0-

when will wakes up, it’s to warmth and coziness, a slow kind of waking up that he doesn’t really have much. it takes him a minute to realise that it’s because he’s being held - cuddled, really - by nursey, who somehow managed to reverse their normal sleeping positions. he’s holding will like he doesn’t ever want to let go, and something in will’s chest - settles, kind of, or at least starts to.

he closes his eyes and snuggles back a little. waking up can wait.


	3. dex/nursey: "things you said that i wasn't meant to hear"

"i don’t know," will hears as he approaches the Haus, nursey’s lazy, mellow voice coming from the open kitchen window. "i mean, bits, we’re doing pretty well. i don’t want to harsh the vibe."

bitty’s laugh bounces around the kitchen as will slows down to listen. he should feel guilty, probably, for listening it, but fuck it. “oh, nursey. i don’t think you’ll harsh any vibes or break up whatever chill y’all have going on if you say something.”

there’s a pause in which will has to try not to laugh about bitty using nursey’s slang. luckily, nursey snorts into the silence. “bits.”

"i know," bitty says serenely. "got you to laugh, though, didn’t it?"

"that it did," nursey acknowledges. there’s a beat, a pause, and will wishes he could see whatever’s on nursey’s face. he’s an open book, always, and will’s gotten really, really good at reading him besides. "maybe i’ll mention it. drop it into conversation."

that, will knows, is the sounds of bitty thwacking nursey with a spatula. “derek nurse,” he chides. “have a little charm, would you? take him out. make it special. you’ve been together for how long now?”

"four months, nine days," nursey says quietly, and will feels like he’s frozen to the spot, like every word is making him put down roots. "it just seems like a big deal, bits. and we - i have no idea if he’d even want to meet them, right?" there’s a scratchy-sounding sigh. "my folks are, you know, great. but they’re kind of a lot, too."

that’s - oh. will feels himself moving for the Haus again before really deciding what he’s going to do when he gets inside, but as soon as he bangs his way in and tosses his bag on the floor and rounds the corner into the kitchen, he’s got it, he’s got this.

"when and where?" he asks, smile playing crookedly on his face. "i’ll even wear a tie."


	4. polyfrogs: "things you said when you thought i was asleep"

"you guys are awesome," chowder whispers. he’s on the other side of the bed, and the whole expanse of dex’s sprawled out, sleeping form is between them, so derek can’t ruffle his hair like he wants. "i mean, you’re the best friends i’ve ever had, and, and-"

he sighs, somehow explosively and yet still quiet enough not to wake dex up. “and i’m glad,” he continues quietly. “i’m glad that i’m at samwell, and i’m glad that you guys are here, and i’m glad that we’re all here here. and that it’s not weird that i. don’t really want to, uh.”

"hey," derek says, because chowder definitely thinks he’s sleeping, but this is - this is important, right, this is maybe something he should wake dex up for so they can convince chowder together, again, but maybe derek can start small. "hey, none of that. you know it’s all good, chowder."

"oh," chowder says, a little louder, and derek leans up and looks over. chowder’s propped up, too, and there are spots of color high on his cheeks. it’s fucking adorable. "sorry, nursey, i thought you were-"

"sleeping, yeah," derek says. "glad i caught that, though. it’s not weird that you don’t want to have sex with us."

chowder looks away. “but-“

"no," derek says. "no buts, man. we talked about this. you draw your lines where you’re comfortable, and we’ll respect that." he sighs. "look, i’m kind of shit at saying it, but i like you a crazy lot, got it? i like you just as much as i like dex, even if there’s no sex."

"same," dex says drowsily. apparently derek had gotten a little vehement, because dex is blinking sleep out of his eyes and looking back and forth between them. "i like you as much as i like me too, chowder."

it makes chowder smile even as derek rolls his eyes. “you’re kind of ridiculous.”

"your face," dex starts, but he cracks a huge yawn in the middle of it. "never mind. get in the middle, chow, we’re making a you-sandwich of cuddles and shit, and we’ll talk more after sleep."

"are you sure?" chowder asks, soft and a little nervous.

dex looks up at derek, and it’s kind of amazing how they’re gotten used to reading each other. derek shifts a little, and then dex slips an arm beneath chowder and rolls them. derek scoots down the bed and makes sure chowder can rest his head on his chest, and when dex crowds up against showder’s back and slings an arm around his waist, derek reach around both of them and holds on as well as he can.

"you guys are the best," chwder says, voice trembling a little as he settles in.

"yeah, we are," dex agrees. he yawns again before pressing a brief kiss to the back of chowder’s head. "sleep. we’ll talk later."

"sleep," derek agrees. he kisses chowder’s forehead, mirroring dex, and smiles fondly when chowder grins against his chest.


	5. jack/bitty: "things you said with too many miles between us"

"i miss you," eric says into his phone. he says it a lot, because it’s true a lot; he alternates his time between madison and samwell, and jack’s in montreal when he’s not travelling with the habs. long-distance is hard, which is something eric had known going into this whole thing, but he’s still somehow surprised by how much he wants to just be able to hold jack’s hand sometimes.

jack sighs, and it sounds staticky over the connection. he’s outside vancouver for a game, and the international call isn’t as clear as skype would have been, but jack’s got a roommate for the away game, so late-night skyping is out of the question. “i miss you, too.”

it’s not as bad at samwell, eric reflects, because at least when he’s in the Haus someone knows what it means when he blinks too much while he’s on the phone, and there’s always a ransom-and-holster shaped hug pile or a frog-themed study session available when he gets down. back in madison, though, it’s just him and senor bun, and while senor bun is the best, he’s not as much of a help as he was when eric was younger.

"i wish," eric starts, stops, swallows. "i wish i could be there to see you skate tomorrow."

"eric," jack says. it’s weird, somehow, that even after almost a year together eric’s still not expecting his first name out of jack’s mouth. "if you… if you want, i can…"

"can what?" eric asks when jack trails off.

"we have two home games while you’re on break," jack says, almost like he’s been saving this up and wants to get it all out at once. "the end of the series against edmonton, and the start of the one against chicago. i want to fly you up to montreal."

"jack," eric says. he presses a hand against his eyes, trying to stop the burning a little.

"i want you to see where i grew up," jack goes on. "there’s a milkshake shop a few blocks from the arena that you’d love. i want to-" jack cuts himself off and sighs. "there’s a big maple tree in one of the parks, and i always thought - a daydream, when i was younger. i thought i’d take someone there some day and kiss them." he laughs a little self-consciously. "sorry."

"that sounds wonderful," eric says, and he’s smiling and crying a little at the same time, overflowing with how badly he wants to crawl through his phone and sit sprawled across jack’s lap and just be there with him. "all of it. the milkshakes, your house, the park and the tree."

"really?" jack sounds hopeful, maybe a little surprised. "you want to?"

"very much," eric says honestly. he laughs a little. "i’m just afraid i won’t want to leave again once i’m there."

"well, there’s always l’université du québec à montréal," jack says, teasing. "i don’t know if your french is good enough, though."

"je t’aime," eric says softly. "i know what i need to know."


	6. dex/nursey: "things you said over the phone"

they’re walking across campus, fall turning the leaves a really awesome tumbling array of reds and oranges and yellows, when dex’s phone rings.

"shit," he grumbles at the caller id. "hey, it’s my mom, let me just-"

"go for it," derek says, sticking his hands in his pockets. they’re just heading to the pizza place; it’s not like they’ve got reservations. dex talking to his mom isn’t putting a huge crimp in their plans.

dex flashes him a little smile and clicks to answer. “hey, ma. how are-“

derek watches as dex cuts himself off and starts listening, giving little hums of acknowledgment every minute or so. he’s got that soft expression on his face as his mom goes on, like he’s fond and amused and happy enough doing what he’s doing.

"yeah," dex says maybe five full minutes later. "yeah, ma, of course i’m glad you called. it’s nice to get the update." derek hears her ask something, and dex shakes his head. "nah, i’m just heading out for a bite with my boyfriend."

derek’s always wondered what it’d feel like, to be in one of those time slows down moments. he’s got his answer: it’s syrup-sticky around the edges, a swooping, freefall feeling in the pit of his stomach as dex freezes, hand clenching around his phone as he realises what he’s said.

there’s a moment of dead silence. derek reaches out and takes dex’s free hand, and dex clutches it like a lifeline. derek hears her start talking again, but he’s not close enough to know what she’s saying.

"what?" dex asks, voice barely above a whisper. "ma, i - what-"

derek rubs his thumb against the skin on the back of dex’s hand and waits.

"oh," dex says weakly after a moment. "i - thanks, ma." she says something else, and dex closes his eyes and lets his shoulders slump. "yeah. love you too. bye."

he hangs up and puts his phone in his pocket, still hanging onto derek’s hand like he’ll lose his way without it.

"she’s not mad," dex says in a tone of voice that derek can’t place, kind of wondering and kind of shocky, maybe. "she’s - she says-"

dex turns suddenly, jerking on derek’s hand and making him stumble. dex catches him, steadies him with hands on his hips, and kisses him in front of the used bookstore on elm street, holding on and letting go all at once. derek kisses him back with everything he’s got, taking and giving in equal measure, and when dex finally pulls back he’s grinning, a little wild-eyed and a lot relieved. “she says it’s gonna be fine,” he says, and he laughs a little, and derek smiles down at him and kisses him again.


	7. dex and nursey: "things you said through your teeth"

"stop," nursey says, and it's - there's anger there, actual feeling and emotion and the whole nine yards. will feels a curl of triumph, until he sees the way nursey's got his fists clenched, hands shaking, like he's three seconds away from flying off the handle and beating the shit out of will.

"hey, whoa," will says, holding up a hand. "not to, like, quote you at yourself, but chill, man."

"don't you dare," nursey says, jaw clenched. it's weird to see him like this, so much negative emotion right there on his face, and will has the sudden feeling that he's crossed a line somewhere, that he pushed too far and really fucked up. "stop talking, poindexter. just shut your mouth."

"nursey," will says uneasily.

"no, fuck you," nursey says shortly. he takes a deep breath as he steps back. "you think - you've always got these giant blinders on, and i can't figure out if it's better or worse that you don't even know they're there. you've got this 'woe is me' bullshit attitude, and you know what? yeah. i get it." nursey looks livid, and now it's will's turn to take a step back. "being poor sucks. having to keep a super high gpa so you don't lose your scholarship sucks. not having extra cash to go out with the guys sometimes sucks." he leans in. "but you know what, dex, when you look like me, money doesn't even start to solve all of your problems, and until you step the fuck off and think about that, i really don't want to talk to you."

he turns and walks away without another word.


	8. jack/bitty: "things you said while we were driving"

"i speak some french, you know," eric says after jack finishes muttering invective at the other drivers on the road, and jack almost swerves the car across the median.

"you what," he says flatly as he straightens the wheel out. "no you don't."

"three years in high school," eric says, grinning. "not enough to catch what you and your parents talk about at a thousand miles an hour, but definitely enough to know that that wasn't polite, mr. zimmermann."

the tips of jack's ears turn red. "désolé," he mutters.

"c'est pas grave," eric says, patting jack's knee. "but don't think you can get away with calling me short and annoying during practice anymore, either."


	9. ransom/holster: "things you said at 1 am"

it's one in the morning, and holster's somewhere between "drunk" and "really going to regret beer in the morning."

"i love you," he mumbles into ransom's shoulder. ransom is the best, really, because who else would haul holster's sorry ass halfway across campus and up two flights of stairs?

"probably jack," ransom says. "bitty would try, but you are a giant and he is very small."

"huh?" holster says. "oh. i said that out loud."

"yeah, buddy," ransom says, shifting holster's weight a little so he can pat at holster's head. "you are super drunk."

"you sound really," holster sighs. "really formal. when you're drunk."

"your choices are formal rans or french rans," ransom says. "at least this way you have a chance of understanding me."

"i understand you," holster says earnestly. he tries to stand up so he can turn and face ransom, because this, this is important. "i even looked up. marine biology. because you."

ransom gives him the side-eye. "i thought you stopped after the last beer i took away from you."

"i did," holster protests.

"you are not making enough sense to only be six-beer holster," ransom says.

"six-drink amy!" holster says brightly. "i told. told you you'd like brooklyn nine-nine."

"yeah, you're a genius," ransom says. they're finally in the attic, and holster thinks he might love his bed more than anything else, even if he hits the mattress a little hard when ransom steps back. "take your shoes off, adam."

"okay," holster mumbles, but he can't seem to make his feet. do the thing.

ransom sighs, and holster feels tugging at his feet. a minute later his shoes are off, and ransom is dragging the sheet up and the trash bucket over.

"i am going to regret this in the morning," ransom mutters from somewhere near holster's face.

holster means to open his eyes, to ask, to say he's sorry because he's the worst sometimes, but then ransom's lips brush against his forehead, and oh. that's... that's nice.

holster is really proud of himself for figuring out how fingers work in time to catch ransom before he pulls away. "cuddles," he says. pulling ransom down is completely out of the question, but ransom doesn't even really hesitate to crawl in beside him.

"go to sleep," ransom says quietly.

"'kay," holster mumbles. he's already mostly there. "i really love you."

he's not sure if he dreams ransom saying "same to you, buddy," or if that's for real.


	10. bitty/shitty: "things you said at the kitchen table"

"please don't graduate," bitty says despairingly. "shitty. please. i'll bake you so many pies."

"you already bake me so many pies, bits," shitty points out. there is, in fact,a pie not two feet from shitty's thesis research. well, most of a pie. part of a pie?

"more pies," bitty says. "don't leave me."

"sorry," shitty says. he even is, not so deep down. "i won't be far, y'know? an hour at most."

bitty sighs and lays his head on the table. "it won't be the same if i'm not accidentally seeing your junk four or five times a week."

shitty snorts. "bitty. you see everyone's junk more often than that. locker rooms, remember?"

"i keep my eyes to myself in the locker room," bitty replies. "you're a special case."

shitty rolls that around in his head for a minute. "because my junk is also not covered at home, or because you make an exception for looking at it?"

bitty - yeah, no, that's a squeak for sure. "shitty!"

"i'm not offended," shitty says. "if i cared about people seeing me in all my glory, i'd probably wear more pants."

"no you wouldn't," bitty says, and okay, point.

"even so," shitty says. "you can look all you want."

every inch of bitty's skin is red, and he's got his face turned towards the table. "i will never be able to look at you again, clothes or no. thanks."

well, now or never, shitty thinks. "i like it when you look," he says. it's maybe a little easier to say this if bitty's not looking at him, so he rushes on. "i maybe parade around naked a lot because i want you to look."

"we can't help looking," bitty mumbles.

"you," shitty clarifies. "ask around. naked time has increased, bits. i like it when you look. i like you."

bitty raises his head. "uh. shitty?"

shitty smiles a little, just enough to make it out past his mustache. "yeah, well, you know. you're pretty fucking great."

"uh." bitty's still redder than is probably healthy, but there's a smile dawning on his face. "thanks, shitty."


	11. ransom/holster: "things you said with no space between us"

holster has this habit of humming absently, snatches of things he's heard on the radio or from bitty or from the background loops of all the cat videos he watches on youtube. ransom has learned, over the past few years, that whatever he's humming is a good indication of how he's feeling. justin's got a list of what means what:

-taylor swift means he's happy. choral music tends to mean the same thing, but it's harder for ransom to figure out what that sounds like, exactly. 

-beyonce used to mean excitement, but these days it means bitty, pie, the super overprotective urges they both tend to get. 

-showtunes means he's thinking something through. it's easy to tell these from the choral music because the humming is usually accompanied by little hand motions, like a super-condensed version of whatever the character would be doing on stage.

the list goes on; there are about 50 entries by this point.

-billy joel, though, is melancholy, sadness, something being really super wrong in the world of adam birkholtz. ransom used to like billy joel. not so much now.

"hey, bro," ransom says when new york state of mind cuts off and the chorus of leningrad starts. "what's up?"

"nothing," holster mutters. he's aggressively cleaning a spot on his desk. billy joel and cleaning is... not a good sign.

ransom leans over the back of his chair. "what'd you get on the desk, huh?"

"nothing," holster repeats.

"okay," ransom says, nodding. "up with you." he grabs holster's scrubbing arm and hauls until holster's standing, then manhandles him over to the bunk beds. holster doesn't fight when ransom shoves, and he makes himself small enough for ransom to crawl in with him. it's a full-contact hug, arms and legs all tangled up in each other, and ransom only stops rearranging them when holster's face is mashed into his chest and ransom can run his fingers through holster's hair.

it takes a few minutes for holster's shoulders to lose the line of tension that had to be killing his neck. he sighs and rubs his face against ransom's chest and mutters something.

"what was that?" ransom asks, not letting go of his head. this is the cuddle zone. there's no moving until shit is figured out. they printed out the rules and signed them, even.

"i don't know what i'd do without you," holster says again, a little louder this time. "i just... i really, really don't."

ransom doesn't reply. he's absolutely in the same boat; holster might get like this sometimes, his billy joel days, but ransom knows how he gets around exams. he's never met anyone else who would wing a mini-pie at someone for him, or let him sit in the dark space beneath the desk to study, or... a lot of other things.

"yeah, well, you're my person," ransom says after a moment. he can feel holster's grin against his chest.

"and i know that's true because i know you hated grey's anatomy," holster says. "justin. you're my person."

"adam," ransom replies. "we're persons for life."


	12. polyfrogs: "things you said under the stars and in the grass"

"i love it," chris declares. he's so glad he decided to take astronomy, really, because the stars are so cool and it's so cool to learn about them, and dr. nyle is amazing, but most of all it's the greatest because-

because he's on his back in the grass, pointing up at the sky and telling the two best people he's ever met about orion and polaris and ursa minor, and neither of them is making fun of him. not even in their heads. chris has had a lot of practice at telling when that's going on.

"what about, like, cassiopeia," nursey says from his left.

"wait," dex says, sitting up a little on chris' right and looking over. "this one i've got."

he points up and starts talking, and chris - he loves it when dex tells stories. nursey might be the english major of the three of them, but dex has a way of making things seem real and exciting, like if chris just closed his eyes he'd see what dex was talking about.

"huh," nursey says when dex finishes and drops back down to the grass. "i'm gonna bring that up in my myths and legend class. thanks, man."

"yeah," dex says. he and nursey still aren't always good at this, at the times between closed doors when they have to figure out how to get along, but they're so much better than they used to be. they're both trying really hard, and it shows, and chris is just really happy about it.

"you guys," he sighs, stretching both of his hands out to his sides. nursey's already reaching for him, threading their fingers together and holding his hand easily, and it doesn't take as long as it used to for dex to find his other hand flailing around in the dark. "you're the best. both of you."

"that's not what best means," nursey points out, but it's not competitive, not like he's saying chris has to pick one of them. "superlatives are, by their nature-"

"god, chowder, kiss him and shut him up," dex groans, and chris is really not going to say no to that.


	13. ransom/holster: "things you said too quietly"

"i came out to my family," holster says one afternoon, out of nowhere. they've been doing homework for an hour (actually doing it, not messing around and saying it was homework), and ransom had just been thinking it was time for a distraction.

this was not what he'd thought the distraction would look like.

"you, uh?" ransom says, asks, whatever. "you did?"

holster shrugs, not looking up from his econ textbook. "i thought," he says, and then finishes that sentence under his breath.

ranso puts his pencil down; his kinetics homework can wait. "thought what?" he says.

"thought maybe you could, y'know, visit over the summer," holster says. "if you wanted to. or whatever."

ransom can't help the smile spreading across his face. "wait, you told your family about me?"

"yeah," holster days, almost defensively. he finally looks up, and there's a res streak across his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. "i mean, of course. why wouldn't i?"

"bro," ransom says, full grin mode engaged. "yeah. i'll visit."

holster's answering grin is awesome, and okay, maybe homework is gonna be "homework" after all.


	14. polyfrogs: "things you said when you were drunk"

"you know," nursey says, draping a heavy arm over dex's shoulders, "you are - you are incredibly attractive." he pauses, takes another swig of beer, and grins. "just. i mean. wow."

chris has to clap a hand over his mouth to keep from cracking up. dex's face was already a little flushed from all he's had to drink, but now it's full-on fire engine. "yeah, nursey, that's great. you have absolutely zero chill right now, in case you were wondering."

"it's because you're so hot," nursey says, all beer-confident and sure of himself.

"jesus mighty," dex says, sighs, something. "chowder, i think we need to cut him off."

"nooooo," chris says. "you're not fighting when you're drinking. that's 'swawesome."

"you're 'swawesome," nursey says, still grinning, "i mean. if we're talking about attractive people..." he trails off and makes some kind of gesture that chris has no idea how to interpret.

"for once, mr. handsy and i are in complete agreement," dex says, turning his attention completely to chris. "you're, uh."

"what about nursey?" chris says, because gosh, he can't actually handle both of them looking at him like that, wow, no. it's great, it's amazing, but he. can't.

dex shrugs a little, moving nursey's arm up and down, but he's smiling too. "you know. not terrible."

"not terrible!" nursey shouts, raising his bottle into the air like a fistpump. he knocks his head into dex's. "that's the nicest fucking thing you've ever said about me, bro. like, ever."

"i'm a nice guy," dex objects, and no, no, they've been doing so well.

"you are," chris jumps in. "you're both so nice, and you're both really good-looking, and i'm just so glad you're both my friends."

dex and nursey both smile at him, more like they're fond of him than anything else. to chris' surprise, it's dex who reaches out to grab his wrist and tug him into a group hut.

"'swawesome," chris says happily, snuggling in.


	15. polyfrogs: "things you didn’t say at all"

they don't talk about - a lot of things.

they don't talk about right after christmas break, when dex comes back to samwell with a pinched, angry look on his face all the time, when the only thing that gets him to loosen up and get his bearings back is chowder sprawled across his legs talking about anything, nothing at all, while nursey rubs almost idly at the back of his neck like he's trying to coax the tension there out.

they don't talk about nursey studiously avoiding talking about his family, his parents, his siblings. dex asks around the gym after a phone call they don't listen in on, learns how to brace a punching bag, and chowder holds the ice against nursey's swollen fingers after.

they don't talk about how quiet chowder gets sometimes when he looks at bitty and jack, or shitty and lardo, or ransom and holster. they don't talk about farmer and how she'd wanted more, or about how nursey and dex had found him in his room with tears running down his face, how they'd had to talk each other down from finding her and screaming until their lungs gave out, how they'd piled into chowder's bed and just held on until he'd fallen asleep, and then for a good while after.

they don't talk about any of it. but then again, they don't need to.

**Author's Note:**

> [follow me on tumblr](http://somehowunbroken.tumblr.com) for the chance to prompt your own completely fluffy ridiculous ficlets.


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